**Thanks a million to the best beta ever, sordid_humor!

Chapter 9

Blaise had been so overwhelmed with relief when he'd read the message from Draco that he didn't risk questioning it in anyway. He rushed home as fast as traffic would allow and burst through the door, hoping against hope that Draco wouldn't be sitting on the couch in his sweats, announcing that he'd changed his mind.

He grinned wildly when he saw Draco already dressed, mussing with his shock of white-blond hair in the hallway mirror, an open bottle of Stella in his hand.

"Hey, mate," the blond greeted when Blaise walked in. He immediately grabbed another beer, cracking it open and handing it to Blaise. "I figured I'd save us some cash—picked up a few beers on my way home."

"Cheers," Blaise replied with a grin. He nodded to Draco, who was already focused on the mirror again. "Nice haircut."

"Thanks..." the blond muttered, pulling a face as his long fingers carded through his freshly trimmed locks. "It's better than it was, but it's still..." he trailed off and met Blaise's eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "I won't bore you," he finished with a grin.

"I appreciate that," Blaise joked. "So, where are we going?"

"Three Broomsticks. It's George's birthday. You remember him, right? He stopped by last week."

Blaise nodded. He did in fact remember the George. He was just a kid, barely of age, but Blaise distinctly remembered because he had come seeking Draco, wondering why he hadn't been out in weeks.

"He still dating the Weasley?" he questioned, smirking. The Weasley, whom Blaise knew was one of Ron's many brothers, graduated a couple years ahead of them and was likely about 24. And George was what? 17? Talk about a score on the red-head's part.

"To be honest, I haven't the foggiest," Draco replied. Finally, the blond abandoned his reflection and turned to Blaise, returning the grin sent his way. He was fairly certain he knew what Blaise was thinking.

"And how old is George?" The Italian drawled.

"It's his 18th today."

Blaise snorted, but Malfoy raised a brow at him. "Who are you to talk, Zabini? I mean, really." Blaise, who was the same twenty two years as Draco, had had a slew of younger girlfriends.

"Okay, that was one time," Blaise argued, knowing the specific ex Draco likely had in mind. "But in my defense, she was about to graduate!"

Draco scoffed. "Yeah, from bleedin' high school, Zabini, not university—hell, not even sixth form! She was sixteen." At this, he smirked and took a sip of his beer before continuing. "She probably listed you as an extra-curricular. You sure know how to pick 'em, mate."

~.~.~

Stepping into the busy pub, Draco scanned the room in search of George's dirty blond head. When he finally spotted him, he couldn't help but grin as he nudged Blaise with his elbow.

"I guess that answers your question," Draco said, nodding towards the table where George sat nearly consumed by an extremely attentive red-head.

Blaise cleared his throat as they stepped up to the couple. "Er, excuse me George, but you have a Weasley on your face."

Both men looked up to see Draco and Blaise standing over them and laughed. Fred stood and offered a steady handshake to them both, a wide smile on his face. "Malfoy, nice to see you again."

"Same to you," Draco replied. "And you know Blaise Zabini?"

Fred nodded. "In passing, although I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced. Fred Weasley. S'a pleasure."

Blaise smiled. "Likewise. I've seen you and your other half around London before."

Leaving Blaise and Fred to their small talk, Draco slipped into the seat next to George.

"I'm glad you could make it," the young man said sincerely, his boyish features lighting up.

Malfoy gave the boy a secure, one armed hug, jostling him under his grasp. "Me too, Little G." He said warmly. It was odd, but Draco didn't know how to be snide towards George. He was very sweet and tended to bring out Draco's more genuine side. "Although I don't think you would have missed me too terribly if I hadn't," he teased, nodding towards Fred with a wink.

George blushed. "Don't be silly. Of course I would have. I'm new in town, remember? I don't have very many friends."

"Oh wow, I'm flattered," Draco laughed, making a point of excessively batting his long, pale lashes. "So, it's going well then, yeah?" At George's meek nod and wistful glace towards his boyfriend, Draco raised one smart eyebrow. "You have the bruises to prove it, I hope? If you're not walking funny, then it's not going well enough."

If possible, George flushed even darker. He covered his face with his hands but Draco could still see the wry, bashful smile from between his fingers. "It's going great," the boy managed. "He's great."

"The Weasley?" Draco teased. "You sure 'bout tha'?"

"I'm sure."

"Good then," Draco nodded, waving down a nearby server. "Now all you need is a t-shirt that says 'I'm with the Cradle Robber.'"

~.~.~

"What part of 'I don't want to talk about it,' failed to permeate your thick skull?"

Draco growled in frustration, sitting slouched in his seat, arms crossed firmly across his chest. They had been having a perfectly good time—pleasant conversation, good beer, great company. He seriously could have killed the freckle-faced idiot for ruining it.

"The part where you get puppy dog eyes every time we mention him in passing. Now, excuse me for being forward but—"

"If I don't, will you bugger off?" Draco spat.

Fred continued, ignoring the blond's interruption. "But if you want him, Malfoy, just go an' get him."

Draco's eyes widened, having not expected that reply in the slightest. "Excuse me? You don't have a sodding clue, do you Weasley? You're more of a moron than I thought. It doesn't bloody work like that! It's a two way street. It makes no difference what one person wants if the other doesn't want the same thing. I can't just fucking decide these things."

"How do you know what he wants?"

Exasperated, Draco rolled his eyes. This was bloody ridiculous. "Because, you fuckwit, he told me. He's happy to just whore himself out with no expectations." Draco suddenly realized he may have been disputing the wrong argument. Hadn't he been exactly the same way a few months ago? "Besides, who even says I want anything! Maybe I'm just as content with it being a simple fuck. What makes you think I want anything different?"

Six eyes stared back at him and no one uttered a word, their silence saying everything. Blaise's shoulders shook with a muffled snort, Fred lifted a sardonic eyebrow, and George covered his pert little mouth with his hand in an effort to hide the grin that was forming there.

The blond glared at them but his posture sagged. He resented the looks they were giving him: like he was a naïve child whose lack of know-how was amusing, just a form of entertainment. When did his lying become so abysmal? "Okay, fine," he muttered in defeat. "Bloody tossers, the lot o' ya."

Fred sighed. "Listen to me, Malfoy. Harry isn't perfect."

Blaise let out a short, barking laugh. "He certainly had Draco fooled," he muttered, receiving a stony glare from his best friend.

Weasley continued. "He doesn't know what he wants. He just knows what he doesn't want. The guy's been avoiding commitment left, right and center—I mean, after the shit he's been through, who can blame him? He's just tired of trying to sift through the crap to get to the good stuff, yeah?"

"Thanks for the lovely metaphor," Draco sneered. He had no idea what the hell Weasley was talking about. The shit Potter had been through? What shit? Losing his parents? Draco hated feeling uninformed, but maybe if sodding Potter just bloody told him a thing or two and stopped acting like such a conceited, reticent, conniving little prick, Draco would know these things. His irritation showed in his conversation with Fred—he was being a complete dick but he didn't rightly care. At least that was something he was good at. "You got a point, Weasley?"

Blaise decided it was best that he took over. "His point, Drake, is that Potter's just put up a few walls to be torn down. Certainly nothing a Malfoy can't handle," he added, a smirk touching his lips. "Just be persistent. If anybody knows how to be a demanding and relentless little twat, it's you."

"Thanks," the blond replied, his tone flat.

"I'm serious. Don't let a few speed bumps deter you: a Malfoy goes after what he wants. After all, quitting is for failures, am I right?"

Draco gritted his teeth, hating Blaise for quoting him almost word for word. Damn Zabini and his blasted good memory. A heavy sigh escaped his chest as he physically deflated. He hated to admit that maybe they were right. He was, after all, a Malfoy. It was definitely unlike him to admit defeat, especially so easily. And although Draco wasn't usually the type to be overly concerned about his relations with men and where they went, he couldn't deny that Potter had gotten under his skin. Maybe it was something he shouldn't ignore, considering how rarely it happened. With that perspective in mind, Draco grew more confident. Who was Potter to think he could just flippantly turn down an opportunity to be with Draco Malfoy?

He met Blaise's steady gaze. "Okay, Zabini, you win," he simpered. "By the time I'm through, Potter won't know what hit him."

Blaise, along with the rest of the company, smiled in relief. "Now that's the Draco I know and love," the brunet said, leaning back in his chair, a look of accomplishment settling into his handsome features.

~.~.~

The crowd erupted in cheers as Wandless Magic struck the final chord of their last song of the night. Harry was breathlessly leaning into the mic, directing many thank-yous to the audience.

"You guys have been great, thanks so much. And for a reminder I'm sure you don't need anymore, that's Hermione Granger on bass and Ron Weasley on drums."

Harry turned his back to the crowd as he lifted his guitar strap over his head and set the instrument carefully on its stand. With his back turned, Harry didn't notice an agile blond vault onto the stage. Turning around, he started—taken so completely by surprise. The Room of Requirement wasn't exactly the sort of venue where crazed fans jumped up on stage. He was immediately caught up in a secure embrace and snogged within an inch of his life.

Strong arms were wrapped around his back, dipping him backwards and supporting his weight. Harry reacted out of instinct rather than actual comprehension. His brain hadn't quite had the chance to catch up with his body, but somewhere in the recesses of his mind was a deep-set familiarity with the firmness of the arms around his waist, the solid hand that rested steady and hot at the curve of his back, the urgent press of soft yet assertive lips. Whether it was his sex drive or his subconscious, his instinct was to kiss back just as hard, just as needy and long and full.

He could hear cat calls and whooping whistles from the crowd and he knew he should be pulling away—but he was finding the task particularly difficult. He liked this kiss—he knew this kiss. He knew the taste and the smell and the touch of it. It was Harry's grin against his assaulter's lips that finally separated them. Still wrapped tightly in the man's arms, Harry opened his eyes and was presented with the sight of familiar features: creamy skin, a pointed jaw-line and wisps of platinum hair.

"Hey, stranger," the boy said, still somewhat dazed, eyes wide and sparkling with shock. The stage lights glittered in and out of the green there, lighting up his face.

"Potter," Draco drawled, his token smirk just starting to curve the corners of his pink mouth. "I believe you owe me twelve pence."

Harry quirked a brow in amusement. "I reckon I do. You said you take checks?"

A large and genuine smile split the blond's face. He dropped his head to ravish Harry's lips again. This time he brought his hands to cup the sides of Harry's face, fingers threading into the messy locks above the boy's ears and tracing slow circles, wrapping thick tresses around his fingers until they were tangled so sweetly together.

"Well then! I guess that's an interesting end to yet another terrific show!" the MC announced into the microphone as he stepped back on stage. "Stick around and order some more drinks, 'cause we've got hours of great music coming your way!"

The DJ started up again and many people began milling their way towards the washrooms or the bar. A few entertained onlookers stayed to survey the lead singer and the blond going at it on stage. But Draco didn't care about their audience and he also didn't care that somewhere up stage Ron was huffing uncomfortably and Hermione was putting gear away, pretending—despite her pink cheeks—not to notice.

It was a cause for concern though, because now that Draco was flush up against the brunet again, smelling him, tasting him… he wasn't sure if he would be able to stop. Hell, he wasn't even sure he wanted to stop. He would have had his way with him right there on the stage and not have regretted it for a second, even if he were thrown into the drunk tank and left there till morning.

Therefore, he supposed it was a good thing when Harry pulled away gently, backing out of Draco's reach. The musician slowly started breaking down equipment, quietly smirking at the blond. "Fancy seeing you here Malfoy. Thanks to you I'll have a lot of explaining to do to my avid fans," he said with a wink.

"Yes, well, anyone who can't handle the idea of you with me can shove it up their asses."

"Is that so? Well considering I'm not with you, I don't see it as being a problem. Mind you, that little presentation you gave them will likely ensure I get a lot of desperate emails from jealous fan girls."

"Don't be so sure of that, Potter."

Harry looked up from the cord he was coiling. "Of what? It not being a problem, or the desperate emails?

"Of not being with me," Draco replied, haughtily examining his nails as if the topic were boring him.

"Well..." Harry started, retrieving his case and kneeling to place his guitar inside. "Call me crazy but I think I'd know if I were seeing someone."

"Oh, you're not yet," Draco agreed. "But that will change."

"Oh?" The brunet inquired, looking up at him. "You sound pretty confident for a guy I haven't heard from in nearly a month."

"That's because I am," Draco said as he stepped forward and squatted down to level with Potter, resting his forearms on his knees. "All in due time, Potter..." He took Harry's chin in his thumb and forefinger and claimed his mouth in a hot kiss. "Finish up here," he said. "Then meet me at the bar. I'll buy you a drink."

~.~.~

From his seat at the bar with Fred and George, Blaise watched as Draco laughing whole-heartedly, several feet down the bar. Even as his best mate, that rolling laugh was something he only heard on rare occasion when it was just the two of them. Draco's eyes were brighter than they'd been in weeks. His silvery gaze never left Harry's face, focused on the man and their lively conversation, little touches passing between them. Potter kept leaning forward to pick up his ale, nostrils flaring ever so slightly. Blaise realized the brunet was taking a surreptitious whiff of Draco's cologne with each pass. He'd never seen two men so obviously into one another. Blaise was counting the seconds until the tension between them took its natural course—a good, heart-pounding fuck. Draco could sure as hell use it.

The blond pushed back his already rolled up sleeves and paused to take a sip of his gin and tonic, still chuckling.

"No, Potter, I kid you not," he continued as he put the glass down. "I am so musically un-inclined; should I so much as approach an instrument, it'll go out of tune."

Harry laughed. "Right. You know you're a tad dramatic, Malfoy?" he teased.

"Oh, you think I'm kidding? Go check your guitar. I'm sure you won't even recognize the sound of the D-string."

The brunet shook his head with a grin. "Well, I'm sure I could teach you a thing or two."

"You've already taught me a thing or two, Potter," Draco smirked.

"Oh I have, have I?"

"Yeah. You taught me never to leave you alone with my stationary."

"Bloody hell," Harry laughed. "You have quite the emotional attachment to your post-its."

"I wouldn't call it emotional. More like practical. And also, who fucking doesn't love stationary? I mean, tell me you didn't used to anticipate back to school shopping as a kid."

"I didn't exactly have the pleasure of back to school shopping," Harry chuckled. "But I can imagine." He saw Draco's eyes sadden just a touch and veered away from the topic as subtly as possible. "I was a bit of a nerd in grade school, actually."

Draco snorted. "Why does that not surprise me, Potter?"

Harry grinned. "But then I picked up a guitar when I was in sixteen and bam—nothing but sex."

"Hmm. Curious… joining the high school band usually has the opposite effect..." Draco sneered in jest, sipping his drink.

Across the bar, Blaise was straining to hear some of their conversation with little success.

"They seem to be getting along pretty well over there," George noted when he saw Blaise watching the pair.

"Yeah, they do," Blaise replied, nodding. "I'm surprised, though. I'd have expected Malfoy to drag Harry off to the loo for a quickie ages ago."

Fred grinned. "Me too—I'm sure he's just trying to play his cards right."

"Yeah, but it's Draco. He hasn't had sex in nearly a month. And trust me, in Malfoy time, that's like three years."

"You keep track of how often he has sex?" George asked with mock-incredulity.

The brunet gave him an incredulous look. "I repeat: It's Draco. If I don't hear him from the next room, he makes sure to tell me about it in detail the first chance he gets."

Fred chuckled, putting an arm around George's waist. The red-head was sitting on a bar stool, one knee up with a shoe propped on the foot rest with George standing between his legs, leaning comfortably against his chest. Even Blaise couldn't deny they were quite the pair.

"I see life with a man in diapers is treating you well," came a familiar voice.

The trio looked over to see Ron approaching them, closely tailed by Hermione. Blaise noticed that Ron was lightly grasping the girl's fingers, but dropped them as they approached the group.

"It sure is," Fred replied, beaming and giving the boy in his arms a kiss on the cheek.

"Actually, I was talking to George," Ron corrected. He leaned towards the young man and spoke behind his hand. "'Depends'," he whispered to George with a wink.

"Ha-ha. Very Funny. I'm so old I'm wearing adult diapers. You're a comedian, Ronnie-kins."

"That's probably why he started dating someone with the same name as his brother," Hermione spoke up. "It's a lot harder to forget."

Fred laughed. "Hermione, you have been spending far too much time around my dear old brother."

"Oh, don't even get me started on the name thing," Ron exclaimed with an obvious shudder. "It's so bloody wrong."

"Why? Because you can actually say the sentence, 'I walked in on Fred and George going at it like rabbits?" Blaise smirked.

Ron shot him a disgusted glare. "Something like that."

"Where is George tonight, anyway?" Hermione asked.

"Doing inventory at the shop," Fred answered with a disgustingly self-satisfied grin. "His scissors lost to my rock."

Ron was looking over at Harry and Draco, a mixed expression on his face. "So… he's back then, is he?"

"We smacked some sense in to him earlier, yes." Blaise answered. "We were actually just talking about how impressed we were that he's postponing the humping and talking things out with Potter—"

"Oops. Spoke too soon." Fred was gesturing over to the pair and Blaise glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Draco whisper something in the Harry's ear, guiding him off his seat and back towards the rear of the club.

"Lovely," Ron muttered.

~.~.~

As soon as they ducked behind the curtains and were out of sight, Draco grabbed narrow shoulders and shoved the smaller boy up against the dark backstage wall. He pressed into his firm little body in undisguised desperation, needing the contact he'd so long been deprived of. Bracing his hands on either side of Harry's head, he assaulted that beautiful mouth with his tongue. He could feel the musician's chest rising and falling in quick busts against his own. Just the thought of having Harry again left Draco moaning into the smaller man's mouth. It had been torture when they were up at the bar, the club lights dancing across Harry's face, colors reflecting in his eyes. His full lips looked positively edible tonight, even more so than Draco remembered. Like sugar coated jujubes, supple and sweet. Had Potter managed to get even sexier during their time apart? Draco wasn't even sure that was possible, but one thing he was certain of was how much he would love to slather the brunet in hot ganache and slowly lick it off, limb by limb, lip by lip…. Draco could barely remember what breathing felt like—and at the moment, he was pretty sure he wasn't doing it. Who had time to worry about breathing when Harry tasted so good, felt so good? He had to have him, had to feel that achingly tight space around his cock, had to hear him scream his name…. He ground his hips firmly against Potter's, smirking at the moan that fell from the brunet's lips.

With no warning, he ripped off Harry's t-shirt and bent to suckle at his golden chest. Letting his teeth close down lightly over one of Potter's hard nipples, he trailed a tormenting hand to cup the crotch of the other boy's denims.

"Ungg, Fuck," Harry muttered. "Not… wise, Malfoy. Someone's bound to come back here eventually."

"So?" Draco smirked, voice husky, trailing his mouth back up towards Harry's neck. "If they like it, they can watch." He dragged his teeth along Harry's immaculate skin, nipping at his collar bone. He enjoyed the red marks he was leaving behind, enjoyed the idea that he was defacing something so impeccable with something so intimate as the raw, physical evidence of his lust.

Harry was breathing heavily, eyes closed and head arched back, exposing his beautiful neck. Soft moans were escaping his lips. For once, he was letting Draco take the lead, do as he wanted with him. But the soft moans weren't enough. Draco grabbed Harry's waist and flipped him around to face the wall, the brunet letting out a cry of surprise. Harry's cheek was pressing uncomfortably against the uneven surface of the wall, as Draco abusively held him there, his hands flying to the front of Harry's trousers. He unfastened them as quickly as his scrambling fingers would let him, yanking them down to the boy's knees, along with his pants, leaving Harry's nether regions delightfully bare.

Draco slithered down Harry's body, stroking his hot skin with his fingers and trailing his lips down his back. With the force of Draco's solid weight no longer pressing into him, Harry was able to prop his forearms onto the wall. He dropped his head into the crook of his elbows, breathing through the thought-searing anticipation.

Draco skirted a hot tongue over the soft dimples of Harry's lower back. His back curved into perfectly rounded cheeks, like a sheen of buttermilk poured over a heart-shaped frame—the sight was mesmerizing. Letting his mouth water, Draco gathered all his saliva to the front of his mouth as he carefully spread Harry to expose his enticingly tight, puckered hole. He closed his lips over Harry and lapped wetness over his entrance, feeling the boy shudder noticeably beneath his hands. As Draco darted a tongue teasingly back and forth over Harry's hole, the musician moaned loudly, the words he'd tried to string together dribbling out as unintelligible sounds among wails of pleasure.

"Unggf…mal…I..fu..."

Potter's moaning made Draco's gut tighten painfully. With his fingers clawing into Harry's hips, Draco burrowed his tongue eagerly into the boy's restricted channel. His anus was hot and heavy against his probing tongue, but the blond persisted and he soon had reduced Harry to a whimpering mess, bucking in uncontrolled spasms against his face.

Harry shoved a fist in his mouth just as he was letting out a loud guttural cry. Someone had to have heard that one, it was echoing in his own ears even now. But Draco was doing terrible things to him, terrible, dirty, wonderful things. He'd forgotten how amazing the man was with that incredible tongue of his. He felt like he was drowning in his own ecstasy. He was reeling towards his own climax already. He couldn't take much more of this.

"Dr…aco..." he panted. "I...ugh, fuck!"

He never finished the thought, but Draco got the message. He was standing in a flash, wasting no time as he lowered his zipper and freed his own throbbing erection from the tight confinements of his pants. He sucked on three of his fingers and pressed them into Harry's already loosened opening. Draco waited for the boy's tense muscles to completely relax before curling his fingers upwards, eliciting a breathy whimper from the brunet when they reached their mark.

Draco pulled out to retrieve a condom from his pocket, ripping the package open with his teeth. With one hand supporting his weight on the wall by Harry's head, the blond reached down, palming a few reassuring strokes to his scrotum, testes relaxing and dropping, before he slid the condom over his flushing shaft. Just in case, he added an extra hit of saliva to the already lubricated latex. There was no such thing as "too careful" with a boy as deliciously tight as Harry.

With a vice-like grip on Harry's shoulder, Draco pushed into him slowly. It was both agonizing and relieving; it was dying and going to heaven; it was heart-stopping. Overwhelmed by the absolute ecstasy of being back inside this stunning brunet for the first time in weeks, Draco let his head fall forward onto the boy's sweat-slicked back. He panted as he inched his way in, pressing his lips to Harry's warm shoulder blades.

Harry moaned as Draco reached the hilt, jutting his hips back to take in as much of the blond as possible. Slowly Draco started moving, his hand coming down to Harry's bicep, using it as leverage. He was afraid to speed up, afraid for this feeling to end.

Harry squirmed below him. "Fuck, yer cock is—" he broke off in a gasp as Draco thrust into him deeply. "—yer cock feels so good, so… ughnnnn!" he finished in a broken sob, pushing impatiently into Draco's hips. "Mmm…harder."

Draco bit his lip. Potter talking dirty to him wasn't going to help make these valuable moments last. He leaned in closer, snaking a hand between Harry's legs to grip his thick cock, stroking it in time with his thrusts. He sped up slightly, letting out a groan and biting down into Harry's muscular shoulder. This was altogether way too good; too good for Draco to hold out much longer.

Restrain and patience out the window, Draco's heavy, burdening thrusts became longer and faster. His hand was flying over Harry's cock and the smaller man was curving into him, arching impossibly as his cries grew progressively louder. There was the unmistakable seize of Harry's spasming muscles as his climax hit him like a torpedo and, with a brute grunt, Draco's teeth dug into Harry's skin to keep from shouting unintelligible words of pleasure. With a few final thrusts he went reeling over the edge, rapture pulsing through him in violent waves and he was mildly aware that he could taste blood on his lips.

"Fuck," he muttered breathlessly, as he stilled and tried to coach his heart rate back to normal. He opened his eyes and took a look at the spot on Harry's back he'd been digging his teeth into. There was a large red mark there, visible teeth indentations, and a small amount of blood, trickling from where the skin had ripped.

"Shit," Draco muttered, rubbing it very lightly with his thumb. "Yer bleeding. Sorry… does it hurt?"

Harry shook his head, still resting on the wall. "Not really," he answered, turning as Draco pulled his softening cock from his backside. "It might later though, once the effects of the sex wear off." He grinned as he tugged his pants back up over his hips.

Draco tucked himself back into his own slacks and closed the distance between their bodies, again trapping the brunet between himself and the wall. For a moment he just stared into his bright green gaze before leaning in to kiss the man's neck. His skin was moist with perspiration, and Draco could feel Harry's erratic and quickened pulse beneath his lips. He gradually worked his way up to Harry's ear, then jawline, then lips. Harry remained quiet, eyelids fluttering closed at the touch.

"Date me," Draco whispered between kisses.

Harry grinned as the blond's lips moved down to his neck again, passing over his Adam's apple. "Nice try."

Draco slid a hand around Harry's waist, stopping to rest in the small of his back. He licked at the boy's collar bone.

"Date me, Potter. Ya know ya want to."

Harry chuckled. "You may be a fantastic fuck, Malfoy, but that's hardly enough to make me change my mind."

"Endless sex as good as this? Sounds like a rather simple decision to me."

Draco was too busy tending to a soft spot below Harry's ear to see his face but he felt the man let out a petulant sigh. "Tempting, Malfoy. But I'm afraid I'm still going to have to decline."

Draco shrugged and pulled away; Harry was surprised by the shiver that ran over his bare torso at the chilling loss of contact. He hadn't realized how nice the warmth was until it was gone. "Suit yourself, Potter. You won't be declining for long."

He smirked and left Harry alone to finished getting dressed.